


heartbeat

by shizuoh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Character Death, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Warm Bodies AU, background saramila, zombie-apocalypse-typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:57:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shizuoh/pseuds/shizuoh
Summary: Your name is—no, scratch that, because you don't remember your name. It started with a V, probably.Ugh, nevermind that. You're a corpse, you don't remember who you were, and now you've fallen head over heels in love with a human.Good going.(or: the warm bodies au where zombie viktor falls for human yuuri)





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> this is dumb
> 
> this fic is based off the movie warm bodies, which is basically a super cheesy movie about a zombie named r who falls for a human named julie and eventually cures himself?? its like romeo and juliet but darker and more violent. things are gonna be changed obviously in this tho
> 
> also, this story switches povs throughout to tell both sides of the story. since viktor doesnt remember his name in this, it will be in second person during his half. during yuuris half, it will turn to third person. sorry its so confusing lmfao i didnt know how else to do it. i know a lot of people hate second person.

You're dead.

Okay, maybe that's a strange way to start it, but it's true. You're dead. Everyone is. 

You don't remember your name, and you assume nobody around you does. You're hardly even a person anymore, just a shell of one. Your brain still works obviously—it's what keeps you moving. What keeps you alive, in a way. What keeps you hungry.

You live in the city—along with most of the dead. It's where they gather, you suppose. Cities were once filled with thousands of people, shuffling around every day. Some things just don't change.

You're not sure how long you've been dead for, because you know you were once alive. All the dead were once living, breathing people, who went to work and saw their families and just generally enjoyed life. But now? Now they're mindless, staggering zombies who wander about, endlessly searching for their next meal.

And you're exactly like them, except, you're the odd one out. You don't _like_ hurting people, while it seems the ones around you just don't care.

Sometimes you wonder who you were before. Your brown trench coat and black trousers suggests someone important, but really, you could've been anyone. Maybe it was cold when you died, or something. Maybe you were just some asshole in your glory days.

None of that matters now, though, because you're not some important asshole. You're dead, a corpse, that lives to eat the dead. Ugh, what a shitty gig. Really, could your luck be any worse?

The streets of the city are overcrowded with bloody, snarling corpses, and you keep bumping into each one as you just wander about. It's not like you're good for anything else, but sometimes you wish you could murmur out a faint  _Excuse me_ or  _I'm sorry_ every time it happens. Really, it's annoying not being able to communicate with your fellow dead by any other means other than grunting and the occasional snarl. Sometimes you can get words out, but they're short, one or two sentence phrases that you can hardly understand yourself.

You're faintly aware of the concept of languages, after hearing different survivors speaking one way and then another before you devoured them. Sometimes your words will come out one way, and then another. It's confusing, in all honesty, but you can understand yourself, and that's all that matters.

Most of the dead you stumble into every day are the same faces, sometimes a bit more rotten and bloody than yesterday, but they're familiar. Sometimes they leave, in search of better things—food, basically—but to you, it's comforting. It doesn't hurt when one or more are gone, however, like you're incapable of remorse. You're incapable of a lot of things, you think. That's why you're dead. Your heart doesn't move, some parts of your brain are inactive, your blood streams are clotted and you don't bleed. It's just some of the things that make you an undead zombie.

Endearing qualities, you suppose.

You wander near the square, where overturned chairs and tables litter the ground. There's blood and trash on the ground, like usual, but you see a familiar head of blond hair sitting at one of the tables, pale hands picking at each other in the owner's lap. You don't know his name, but he's probably the closest to what you'd call a friend. He's small, and young—a shame, really; he probably could've been so much more if he hadn't died—but he's fast. He's one of the fastest of the undead that you've ever seen. 

You find your shaky eyes lingering on the bite mark on the junction of where his neck and shoulder meet, and then up to his face. It's littered in scars, but at least his hair is long enough to cover some of them. His hair is bright in the sun, compared to the paleness of his skin. His black veins are showing.

You two don't speak much to each other, but you occasionally awkwardly grunt at each other in an attempt for an almost-conversation. Sometimes, though, you get actual words out.

You swallow and lean forward, twitching fingers brushing the broken tabletop. ".... Hungry," is the first word out of your mouth, in a hiss. You feel the deep desire in the pit of your empty stomach, what you live to do.

Your friend makes a few incomprehensible growls and his eyes narrow. "Find..." his voice comes, "... food."

You nod—it's getting harder and harder to speak these days. At least you have someone who understands.

But, as you two stumble out of your chairs and drag yourself through broken rubble to group up, it turns out that you don't have to travel very far to find something to tide you over. Your hearing is one of your best senses, and in the distance you hear the telltale sound of a bottle being rolled. It's not close, but it's not far; maybe just a few blocks away.

From the looks of it, your fellow undead hear it too, and soon they're gathering up into a mob and grunting at each other like some sort of makeshift plan. If you could roll your eyes, you would've, and you drag yourself to the front of the mob to start moving.

God, you move slow.

This is gonna take a while.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The city is dangerous, but it's his last chance.

Yuuri holds his gun up, putting a hand over his eyes to keep the sun from obscuring his vision. Phichit trails close behind him, a shotgun pressed against his shoulder as he strays a ways behind him, turning all around in the alleyway.

They're on a street that isn't overrun with corpses. but it's only a matter of time until they realize just where their food source is.

"Do you think the place is already picked clean?" Phichit asks without turning around.

Yuuri doesn't answer for a moment, hopping up the stairs and tapping lightly on the metal door into the pharmacy. When he tries to turn the knob, it doesn't move. "It's locked," he says softly, and turns his head. "With the way the city is, I'm sure that whoever dared to get in ended up on the streets."

"Undead?"

"Yes, Phichit," Yuuri sighs. "Do I have to explain _every_ dramatic sentence to you?"

"Your dramatic sentences aren't very good," Phichit scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Yuuri ignores him, and moves his hand all around the metal door, pursing his lips. "Think I can kick it down?"

"It's a metal door, Yuuri, I don't think—"

"Bet."

Yuuri tucks his pistol into the sleeve hooked to his jeans and takes a step back. Lifting his foot, he narrows his eyes, ignoring Phichit's not-so protests of _You're gonna break your foot_ in order to position it right. And he kicks, aiming right beside the knob where the lock is. The door makes a loud sound, and Yuuri winces.

"We're gonna attract them, you idiot!" Phichit whisper-yells, his eyes blown wide. "Just find a fucking window or something!"

"I almost got it!" Yuuri says back, and kicks again. The sound that comes is just as loud, and Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut. 

Leaning back, he braces himself on the rails and jumps so he can kick both feet against the door. When he lands back on his feet, the door makes a loud squeak as it slams open, smashing against the other side of the wall. It starts to recoil back, and Yuuri grins.

"C'mon!" he says, taking his gun back out and slipping inside the dark building.

Phichit groans and follows suit, cocking his shotgun and running inside, shutting the door quickly before any of the corpses realize they're there.

"... You broke the lock," he says a moment after, when the door being shut doesn't give him the comfort he needs.

"Did I?" Yuuri asks, but he doesn't sound as worried as he should be. Instead, he sounds impressed with himself, and when Phichit's statement proves to be true he smirks a little. He kicks up his foot behind him and taps the bottom of his boot. "Nice."

"Not nice," Phichit scoffs, crossing his arms. "It's easier for them to get in if they can just push the door open!"

Yuuri knows this, but he wills himself not to let his worries show on his face. "It'll be fine if we just get what we need and get out of here."

Phichit is quiet for a few moments, and nods, even though Yuuri isn't looking at him.

"What do we need?"

Yuuri slips his bag off his shoulders and opens it up. "We need painkillers and anything else useful. If you find any food, that'll be helpful too."

"Alright," Phichit agrees, and moves to search, but then he pauses. "Do you think... they have hormones at pharmacies?"

Yuuri takes a deep breath. "I wouldn't count on it." When the words leave his mouth, it hurts.

Phichit inhales shakily from behind him.

"Okay."

And they search.

 

* * *

 

 

Your "pack" is just a group of stumbling, growling corpses. They drag their feet against the floor and slouch, mindless except for you. Brainless and hopeless to do anything but feed, just like you.

You move slow, and by the time the sun begins to get low you're only on the third street. 

Your friend is ahead of everyone else, almost like he's leading the way—he's always been the quickest out of all the undead you've seen.

With the hearing you have left, you hear a faint slam. It's a ways out, but the sound echoes and you know you didn't imagine it because your pack is sniffing and grunting in what sounds like questioning.

There's a few moments of silence where everyone just does not move, and there's another slam.

 _Hungry_ , passes through your mind, and when the others snarl and shuffle towards it, you know the thought was collective.

Your stomach is already feeling empty.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri opens a cupboard in the owner's room to find a small plastic bag of energy bars. Smiling, he takes the plastic bag and tucks it away in his backpack.

"Phichit!" he calls. "I found a few energy bars!"

"Nice!" Phichit says back, and he pokes his head into the room. "I only found one bottle of painkillers," he says, holding up the tiny bottle. "And they're meant for kids."

"Better than nothing," Yuuri says. "Most places are swept through."

"All the good supplies is back at the base." Phichit sees the way Yuuri's face changes, and he frowns. "Yuuri, you—"

"We're not going back there, Phichit."

"Yuuri, they—"

" _No._ " Yuuri tightens his grip on his bag, to the point where his knuckles go white. "We're not going back."

Phichit frowns, and crosses his arms. He opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by the noise of a glass bottle being rolled. Phichit is frozen, his eyes wide.

"Did you hear that?" he whispers. 

"Yeah," Yuuri replies, slipping his pistol out of his strap. He turns the safety off and cocks it, narrowing his eyes. "Stay low and quiet."

Phichit is already squatting down, slipping out his shotgun and reloading it. 

They stay low in the room for a few moments, listening and being careful not to make a single sound. Yuuri holds a finger to his lips, and starts to move towards the door out into the main pharmacy. There's another sound, and Yuuri immediately stops in place, switching to hiding behind one of the shelves. Phichit is near the wall, his shotgun loaded and ready to fire.

Yuuri looks over at the main door of the pharmacy. It's glass, covered in planks of rotting wood, and Yuuri notices the lock put securely on the door. 

Then he turns his head to see the metal door he kicked down, and how the wind from outside is slowly opening it. And as it opens more, he can hear the faint growling.

"Shit," he curses under his breath, and looks between Phichit and the metal door. Phichit is closer, but he's in a position where he has a good aim in case anything tries to come in. Yuuri groans and takes his chances, jumping up and running over to shut it.

Except he's too late, and there's corpses rushing in with their arms outstretched.

"Yuuri!" Phichit gasps, closing one eye and landing a shot on the first one's head. The blood from the shot lands on Yuuri's arm, and he groans. "Sorry."

"Whatever," Yuuri says quickly, and moves to the other side of the pharmacy. "We need to find another way out of here!"

 

* * *

 

 

Your friend's foot brushes against an empty beer bottle when he slips by it, but he pays no attention to it. 

When you hear the creak of metal coming from the old pharmacy building, the rest of your pack hears it too. When you move into the alley, the door is creaking open with the afternoon wind. There's a shuffling noise that comes from inside when you get closer.

It doesn't take you much to get up the stairs that lead into the side building, but it does when you have to push through members of your pack in order to squeeze inside. Even one of the corpses manages to push past your friend, shoving his shoulder into the metal door and growling as he stumbles inside. The ones in the back are furiously trying to push to the front, driven mad by hunger and the smell of human flesh. To be in the back is to be hungry, because there is nothing left after everyone has taken it.

Your friend is the third to get inside, and you worry for a moment when you hear the sound of a gunshot. So they have weapons.

But then you remember—you're a _corpse,_ you don't have feelings, only the craving to _eat;_ as long as they don't shoot you in the head, you're fine.

There's another gunshot, and a shouted curse. You're finally inside.

The corpse in front of you gets shot in the stomach, and she pauses for a moment, but does not go down. She only pursues and pursues further, until a figure dressed in shades of black and green shoves her to the wall and jabs a knife through her forehead. You nearly wince.

You move to the side to avoid being shot, because, um, _yikes,_ and you move until you're behind one of the shelves. It's dark in the building, and the light from outside doesn't really help with the setting sun. You don't really need to see, though; your sense of smell gives you all the sight you need.

And then you smell it. The scent of fresh, alive, breathing human flesh.

You growl, despite yourself, _god you're embarrassing,_ and grasp at the shelf as if to shove it out of your way. Your foot slips when you try to move, but you catch yourself, and snarl, baring your teeth. You're trying to look threatening—have to put on a good show, right?—and what could be more threatening than a walking, blood-thirsty corpse?

But then you see it, and you freeze.

From behind one of the shelves comes a person, the _most beautiful_ person you have _ever_ seen in your life (well, your undead life), and the determined look on his face just makes him look better. You swear there's music playing in the background and a light behind him, and when he cocks his gun and points it at the next corpse crawling towards him, it's a flawless shot. _He's_ flawless.

_Holy shit._

And you are so caught up in staring at this _beautiful, beautiful human_ that you don't even notice the knife being thrown into your stomach, embedding itself into your skin. 

You flinch, stumbling back, and suddenly the music and light disappears. You look down at the knife, and pull it out slowly, like you're dragging it out. The beautiful boy's friend, the one dressed in blacks and greens, is staring you down with angry intensity that is almost scarier than the hoard that has filled the pharmacy. You look over at him, ready to charge, but then you hear an angry shout and the sound of a gun's trigger being pulled but no bullet coming out.

The hoard is crawling towards the beautiful person, and he has nothing to defend himself with. He's practically dead, and it's inevitable. His friend is currently occupied with his own situation, so there's no way he can be helped. He's struggling, scrambling backwards, until his back hits the wall. The beautiful person unleashes his knife, brandishing it towards the hoard like it's supposed to be threatening—except they aren't going to listen, they don't care.

But you do.

Except you don't have a chance to move because the beautiful person's friend is shouting and making random noises, calling the herd's attention over to him. It's a good way to save a person, but you've noticed it usually ends in the savior being killed. You wonder if the same will happen.

Sure enough, it works, and the herd slowly begins to make it's way towards the beautiful person's friend. He clutches his shotgun and shoots the corpse that has grabbed onto his ankle, and shoves through the metal door they had came in through. He runs out, and disappears, taking half of the herd with him.

But half stays, crowded by the door, trying to shove themselves through. A few straggle, and turn back towards the beautiful person, as if just now remembering he was there.

You hear his gasp, and make your move.

You move before anyone else does, before anyone else can take a bite. The beautiful person glowers at you when you approach, and his knife is slashed at your face. You lean back, and pause right in front of him, knocking his knife out of his hand. He flinches when you do, and stares where the knife skids across the broken tile. You wait until he looks back up at you, and brush your fingertips against past, unhealed wounds. The substance that comes is one you're not familiar with, but it's some kind of mixture of blood that you don't bleed anymore, skin, and guts. You lift your hand, and the beautiful person turns his head away when your hand brushes against his cheek. You drag it across his face, smearing it over his cheeks and forehead. 

You lean forward and sniff him. When he smells no longer alive, you grumble a little to yourself in satisfaction. 

When you take his hand, he snatches it away. When you frown and try again, he's trembling. You figure it's because he has no more weapons—no more means of escaping. When you stand and pull him up with you, he is compliant, but he still shakes.

You drag him along, making sure not to let him bump into any of the other undead. Your friend is hovering near the door, and he looks at you, sniffing suspiciously, before moving so you can pass. He doesn't notice the human you're holding by the wrist. Neither does the rest of the undead. They all figure he's recently turned—a new addition to the family. With the way he's beat up and bloody, it wouldn't be all that unbelievable. 

When you go outside, the sun is beginning to set. The beautiful person you are touching is shaking, and through your hold on his wrist, you can feel his heartbeat. You can feel the blood coursing through him, the sweat that is collecting on his skin—you can feel what makes him alive, and you are envious.

You wonder why you can't remember how it feels.

 

* * *

 

 

The corpse drags Yuuri across the city until they reach a small apartment building that is half-burnt by a past fire. It's a long walk. The building seems ages old.

The corpse removes its grip for a moment to open the door. It takes some time, with its hands being cold and frozen and dead, but it curls its fingers and twists the knob, pushing it open with more force than necessary. Then it immediately snatches Yuuri's hand again, but this time he's quicker; he stumbles backwards, recoiling his hand. The corpse stares at him, and then pauses, walking inside.

Yuuri isn't sure what to do. If he were to make a run for it, he'd be caught alone in the city at night, with no weapons, no supplies, no Phichit, surrounded by corpses. He looks over at the open door, and out at the open road.

And he walks inside.

The corpse shuts the door behind him, and locks it. Maybe for safety reasons, but the sound makes Yuuri flinch. It leads to a hallway, where some parts of the walls are broken out and beaten up. It's dirty and rotten, but Yuuri's had his fair share of dirty and rotten corridors. 

The corpse leads him through the hallway, into a separate room that looks like someone's old home. It's spacious, surprisingly, except the clutter and random objects that litter the floors, propped against walls. When Yuuri looks up, there's glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling; he isn't sure if the corpse managed to put them up there or if they were from the family who lived here before the world crumbled. He wonders if they still work.

When he turns around, the corpse is staring at him, its faded white-blue eyes twitching. He takes a moment to observe it, its clothes, its appearance. In the past, it could have been attractive, but now it is just a dead body walking. Its platinum hair is strange, because hair dye had ran dry a long time ago.

Yuuri takes a moment to stop, and consider where he is. He's been taken by a corpse, something that's dead, and he's let it take him. Something he's been trained to _kill,_ something he has to kill just to _survive,_ something he's seen kill countless others. He swallows thickly, and a shiver runs down his spine. He's afraid, terrified even, but he tries not to show it on his face. If this corpse brought him here just to have him for itself, then it has another thing coming.

So he moves towards the couch farthest away from the corpse, and plops down, folding his arms across his chest. The couch scatters dust when he sits, and he crosses one leg over the other. His mind drifts to Phichit—if he's safe, if he got away, if he's even _alive._ When his mind gives him worst-case scenarios and things he'd rather not see happen, he squeezes his eyes shut and looks down. His eyes burn with unshed tears. His mind races with unsaid thoughts.

He's snapped out of whatever he's been sucked into when the corpse quite literally flops onto the chair across from him. He flinches and looks up with wide eyes, tightening his grip around himself. The corpse straightens itself and slumps on the chair, its pale hands gripping the sides. Its eyes are droopy and lazy when it eyes him up and down, and then they go wider.

The corpse lifts a hand, and points at its own mouth.

"No..." it starts, and it's _speaking,_ speaking _words,_ "... eat." To emphasize, it chomps its mouth a few times, and shakes its head. Yuuri leans back, sweat trickling down his forehead. "Keep... you safe." Its voice is weary and hoarse, like it pains it just to get the words out. It's obviously having difficulty just forming its mouth around them.

Or—is it even an _it_ anymore?

Yuuri finds himself staring in half-awe, half-mortification. He's been taken by a corpse, but a _weird_ one at that. 

 _The base would have a field day with you,_ he thinks.

There's a heavy silence between them, and the only sound is the faint moans from outside. Yuuri turns his head to look out one of the windows. The sun has set. The moon is high. The dead roam the streets. He turns his gaze back towards the corpse, who is still staring right at him, unblinking and face blank as ever. Unreadable.

_Can a corpse even be read?_

He swallows nervously, glancing away at one of the walls and rubbing his arms. He's trapped, he figures. Yuuri moves so his legs are swung over the couch, and he curls himself up into a ball. All hope has been drained from him.

The corpse hesitates before lifting itself off the chair, and it starts to turn, but pauses and looks back at him for a moment. Yuuri scowls. The corpse makes a grunting noise and walks out. 

Yuuri waits a few minutes, before scrambling off the couch and running to the window. He wipes the condensation off with his hand, and peeks outside. It's night, terribly dark, the only light being the moon. Yuuri can see the corpse limping outside, into a crowd of _more_ undead. If he leaves, he dies. He clenches his jaw in an attempt to prevent himself from crying, and clenches his fists. He has the urge to bang it against the window, but that would alert every single corpse that he's alive and _there._

He goes into each room, searching for something he could use as a weapon. When he finds nothing but various knickknacks and miscellaneous toys, Yuuri moves into the kitchen and hurriedly opens the cabinets and drawers. In the final drawer he opens, there sits a nail file—not the most ideal of weapons, but a corpse's skin and body is weak and rotten. If he tried hard enough, it would surely go through.

So Yuuri goes to the couch, nail file clutched hard against his chest and pointed in the direction of the door, and waits.

 

* * *

 

You're an idiot.

None of the other corpses would ever bring a living person home, because that's crazy. It's unheard of—living people are meant for _eating._ They're your _food source,_ not something for you to think they're pretty. If your bodily functions still all worked, you'd be blushing.

You ponder your selfishness, and wonder what overcame you—what lead you to save the life of a living person. What were you distracted by? Did you intend to keep him as a pet—no, that's not it, that's just straight-up wrong, even for a corpse. You've heard of corpses being kept as pets, but never the other way around.

Corpses do not feel. You do not feel emotions. You do not feel a thing.

So why did you save him?

You decide to dwell on it later, and go back to the house you've put him in. It's rather safe, you think, but you wonder how he's reacted to it. You wonder if he's tried to escape, if he's died already, eaten by the corpses that linger outside and sense his presence. Maybe you should've put a thicker coat of blood on him, a coat that would last.

But the apartment is one of the last sturdy buildings in the city. You're sure he'll be fine.

When you walk into the room, he is asleep. His legs are curled up on the couch, and there is a nail file clutched loosely in his hands. He sleeps with his head hanging off the arm of the couch, and his leg draped over the top. He shivers, and murmurs something in his sleep. 

You stare at him for a moment, because you're not sure what to do. His nail file seems like something to kill you, but you don't blame him. You'd kill yourself if you were in his shoes.

You walk into one of the bedrooms and fetch a blanket, one that isn't too dusty and rotten. You find one that's still intact, though you suppose it'd be better with a wash. When you walk back to the couch, he's changed positions, this time facing you.

You reach down and gently cradle his hanging head. He flinches, but relaxes after a few moments, and you gently move his head where it's resting against the arm of the couch. It takes some force to remove your hand from his skin—he is so warm, so soft, so living. You hesitate in everything—in keeping yourself from touching him, in draping the blanket over his body, in stepping away.

You let him keep the nail file, and go over to the chair to sit. 

The dead do not sleep. You just stick to watching him rest, and wonder what he dreams about.

 

* * *

 

 

When Yuuri wakes, there is a blanket draped over his body. He tightens his grip on his nail file, and jumps up with a gasp. When he looks over, the corpse is staring at him, gaze steady and unwavering.

He looks down at the blanket and then at his nail file. A ton of ideas run through his head—jump from the couch, stab it—but he is hesitating.

"Why?" he whispers, and feels his eyes begin to well with tears. 

The corpse almost looks sad. "Don't..." it says, voice shaky, and _God_ it still scares him that a corpse can talk, "...cry."

Yuuri swallows and turns away. When the corpse stands, he leans back further into the couch. He will not let it see him cry.

The corpse moves out of his sight but he does not turn. When he hears music, he quickly moves to look at the corpse, who is fumbling with a record player. The corpse tries to spin one of the record in its hands, but it very nearly drops it. Almost like its embarrassed, the corpse sets the record down and stares at the record player as the disk spins inside it.

It turns around, and its mouth twitches like it's trying to smile. "Safe," it mutters, in a tone so low Yuuri struggles to hear. "Keep... you safe." It closes his eyes, and sways its body to the tune of the music. 

Yuuri blinks, and furrows his eyebrows. "What are you?"

The corpse does not answer, and only leans against the wall—maybe in an attempt to look cool, but it doesn't work.

 

* * *

 

 

Your heart beats once. It's a new feeling.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri finds himself sleeping again, and when he wakes, he shoves the blanket off him and tucks his knees to his chest. The corpse is standing in the middle of the room, staring intently at him. When the corpse realizes Yuuri's noticed, it quickly turns away and acts as if it hadn't been watching him sleep.

Yuuri sighs, feeling uncomfortable at the thought. "I'm hungry," he says, when he feels the telltale grumble of his empty stomach. All of his supplies was left behind. When the corpse doesn't do anything, he rolls his eyes and turns towards it. "Please? I can't live without food."

The corpse perks up a little.

Yuuri purses his lips. "Look," he says, and runs a hand through his hair. "I would... _really_ appreciate it if you got me some food."

 _That_ makes the corpse liven up, and it nods once before quickly going towards the door. Just before it leaves, it turns around once and makes a motion that says _Stay put,_ or something of the sort. Yuuri just waits for it to leave, until it is completely out the door and he hears the click of it shutting.

Yuuri scrambles to his feet and grabs the nail file, and runs over the foggy window to peek outside. The corpse drags itself outside, and Yuuri notices the significant lack of other corpses around the house and in the street. He takes his chance to go towards the door, waiting just in the case the corpse doesn't change its mind and turns back around.

He turns the lock, and pushes the door open.

It's cold outside—that much is clear from the chilly wind that blows through once the door is open. He shivers, and slips through the small opening he's made. He tries not to make any noise, but when he closes the door behind him, he makes a break for it. He's always been a fast runner, but for some reason his feet drag when he starts to dash towards the other side of the street. Fatigue, maybe, or fear.

He doesn't get very far. As soon as he runs past one building he sees it out of the corner of his eye. There's a corpse sniffing the air, waddling in his direction. It's eyes are gouged out so it cannot see him, but he hides nonetheless. And as soon as he moves, two more emerge from the shadows.

Yuuri curses under his breath, brandishing his nail file, and runs into one of the alleyways to hide behind a dumpster. It's not good cover, and if corpses came from the other side of the alleyway he'd be fucked, but it's decent for now.

He clenches his jaw when the corpses begin to get closer—he's ready, he decides, lifting his head to peer over the top of the dumpster, ready to fight and kill to _survive_ —

There's a cold hand on his shoulder that's pulling him around, and Yuuri very nearly screams. He covers his mouth with his hand and then drops it angrily when he sees the silver-haired corpse who captured him, shaking its head and holding a finger to its lips.

"Don't..." it says, "run."

Yuuri looks back for a moment to see the other corpses increasing in numbers and decreasing in distance. When he turns around, the corpse in front of him smears more guts from itself onto his face. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns away as the cold fingers drag down his cheek. He keeps them closed as the corpse leans forward and sniffs him and grunts in satisfaction.

Yuuri opens them, and looks back. 

"Come," the corpse says, gently taking his wrist and leading him to stand. "S... safe."

When they walk out of the alley together, there is a group of the undead in front of them, roaming the streets, sniffing the air in an attempt to find Yuuri's living scent again. Yuuri gasps, and takes a step back, but the corpse grasps his hand gently, and leads him forward with a knowing look.

"Be dead," it manages.

Yuuri looks down at himself and makes a dramatic show of slumping his entire body and snarling excessively, dragging himself forward with one foot lagging behind. The corpse walks beside him, and when Yuuri's extended snarling attracts attention, stops and leans over towards him.

"You're—overdoing it."

Yuuri pauses, mildly embarrassed, and tries to mimic the corpse's walking as they worm themselves through the crowd of undead. While the corpse doesn't mind who it bumps into, Yuuri slowly moves closer to it to avoid accidentally brushing any of the undead walking by.

"I told—you," the corpse says, and it almost seems like its speech is getting less and less garbled and drawn-out. "Not... safe."

Yuuri rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know," he whispers. They continue walking for a few moments before Yuuri sighs. "I _am_ hungry though."

 

* * *

 

 

You lead him to the nearest grocery store, where there is a single can of assorted fruits rolled underneath the back counter. When you get back to the apartment room, he opens the can with his nail file and eagerly drinks it down. You sit on the floor while he sits on the couch, and you watch him. He's still so beautiful, even if half his face is still covered in your own guts.

When he sees you watching him, he smiles softly with the can still in his hands. "Yuuri," he says.

You lift your head a little, and your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"That's my name," he clarifies, and finally you have something to call him other than _beautiful person._ "My name is Yuuri."

It replays in your head over and over. _Yuuri._ "Yuu... ri." It doesn't roll off your tongue well, but then again, most muscles in your body are dead and decaying. 

"See?" Yuuri says, and his smile is brighter than the sun. "You got it."

"My," you start, and find yourself struggling, god you hate words, "name... is..."

"You have a name?" Yuuri asks, and sets aside his can for a moment. He crosses his legs on the couch and leans forward. When you nod, he tilts his head. "What is it?"

You stop, because you didn't expect to get this far. This is the most you've ever talked the entire time he's been here, you can't fuck it up now. You close your eyes and attempt to remember it, but your mind is blank with disease. You aren't the person you once was, and your memories, along with your life, is gone.

Instead of a name, you start making a _V_ sound, dragging it out as if it'll help you remember.

"'Vvvv'...?" Yuuri repeats, looking confused.

God, this date is not going well. You want to die all over again. 

"Does your name start with V?" Yuuri guesses, and you nod eagerly. Yuuri leans back and bites his lip. "Um..." he says. "Vincent? Vernon?" He starts listing off random names, but you just keep shaking your head. None of them ring a bell. "Valentine, I dunno, Vivian?" 

You give up, and lean back, using one of your arms to steady yourself on the ground. 

Yuuri scratches his neck. "Why don't I just... call you 'V'? I mean, that's a start, right?"

You perk up, and try to nod, but it comes out slow and you end up making a weird, groaning noise in agreement. But the name amazes you, and you repeat it to yourself with your biggest and greatest attempt of a smile. 

Yuuri sighs. "I wanna leave, V."

You panic, and shake your head quickly. "I-it's not... safe—"

"I get that. Look," Yuuri says, closing his eyes for a moment, "I _know_ that you saved my life, and I am grateful for that... but you walked me into this place, so I know you can walk me out again."

He has a good point that you can barely argue with, and your mind reels with possibilities of what to say. He can't leave, he just got here, they only just started talking and the chances of bonding are even greater than before.

"Have... to wait," you end up blurting out. "They'll... notice." Not bad.

"How long?" Yuuri asks softly.

You shrug, but it comes out uneven. "Few... days?" you say unsurely. "They'll... forget. You'll be okay."

Yuuri is smiling again, and he turns his head in curiosity. "Are there others... like you?" When you shrug again, he scoffs. "It's just, I've never, ever heard a corpse talk before. I mean—apart from the... groaning."

You're not sure what to say to that, so you just shrug again. It seems like the best possible choice.

Yuuri leans back against the couch, and takes another drink from the can. "Few days, huh?" he murmurs. "What's there to do around here for a few days, anyway?"

 

* * *

 

 

There are what seems like thousands of trinkets in V's little House of Horrors. 

Yuuri is cross-legged on the floor flipping through records and different boxes of random toys. He sees a few he messed with as a child, and sets them aside for later. He lifts some of the records up and glimpses at them, grinning at the music taste.

"What's with all the vinyl?" he jokes. "Couldn't figure out how to work an iPod?"

"More... alive," V replies, spinning his finger in the air. 

Yuuri laughs to himself, and takes one record out. "Damn, you got some good taste. Where'd you get all these anyway?"

"I... collect things."

"I can see that," Yuuri says, and stands up before walking over to the record player. "Me and my friend Phichit used to go to this music store by our home. They had so many cool records, it's so cool." As he puts the record on, he pauses. "Was so cool." When the music starts to play, he sways his body to the tune, resisting the urge to break out in full-dance. He misses the days where he and his best friend could just put on their favorite tunes and dance the night away, without worrying if they would be alive the next day or when they would run out of food.

He misses the days before the virus broke out. He misses when the world was full of sun.

He misses Phichit.

He tries to not let it show on his face, and runs a hand through his hair. V is staring at him, watching him dance, and he suddenly feels embarrassed. 

"Can you dance?" he asks suddenly.

V tenses up, and looks from side to side as if the question could have been directed towards anyone else. Yuuri scoffs, and leans down to take both of V's wrists. Pulling him up, he marvels for a moment at the freezing temperature of his skin. "Wow..." he mumbles to himself, pausing for a moment to keep his hands on him. V looks confused, but he seems to understand once Yuuri pulls away.

"C'mon," Yuuri says, laughing. "Dance with me." And it's probably a bad idea—dancing with a corpse and all—but when V begins to copy Yuuri's movements it doesn't seem to strange. Like V is alive, like him.

Yuuri moves so he's standing beside V, and takes one of his hands. "This—" He's already laughing, and can't get his words out properly. "This is called Pop & Lock, okay?" It's difficult to get through, when he moves his arms, because a corpse's muscles are decayed and weak, but V seems to get it just fine, even laughing a little in his own way when they manage to do it as best they can. His laugh comes out more like a grumble.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri finds a variety of things to do in that little apartment. He finds a box of styled sunglasses, trying them on one by one and even slipping some of the more ridiculous-looking ones on V. He does not move when Yuuri puts them on him, even looking a little lethargic and out of it when he does so.

There's even old DVDs laying around, and quite a few of them are interpretations of zombie apocalypses. It's almost ironic, and Yuuri dares to laugh when he picks up one of them—the face is far too gory and rotten to be even accurate to what's really happened. He scoots over to V and holds it up to his face, pulling it back with pursed lips and a thoughtful expression.

_Who knew, I guess._

 

* * *

 

 

That night when Yuuri goes to sleep, he curls in on himself on the couch. He feels V staring at him, but it doesn't bother him. He's just curious—the dead cannot sleep. 

His mind is racing with memories, with images, with terrifying visuals. It hits him all at once—he's holed up in an rundown and broken apartment with a corpse that can speak. A long time ago, he would have never expected it to happen.

He remembers back six years ago, when the whole thing happened. He was so young—freshly eighteen, just moved to Detroit with his best friend for college. It was there where the news broke out, where the stories came out of the dead beginning to walk.

His family flew out to see him when they first heard. He only saw them once, alive, before never seeing them like that again.

A organization broke out, a union, declaring war on the government and all those undead. Their propositions and plans were good, and Yuuri found himself joining, dragging Phichit along with him. When the world fell, the organization became the most powerful. They built walls, camps, and turned science facilities into testing labs where they worked on "cures".

It wasn't cures.

Yuuri was one of the greatest soldiers in the organization, climbing the ranks quickly with his best friend at his side. He believed he could survive with them—the organization was the way to go.

All until the day he wandered into one of the testing labs, and saw his undead parents holed up in cages, snarling, covered in what seemed like human blood. 

 _We're seeing if we can cure them,_ the organization told him. _We feed them the stragglers. We feed them the weaklings. Then we torture them into healing themselves._

It was inhumane, it was disgusting—so Yuuri broke in the following night and shot both his mother and father before packing up and escaping with Phichit.

That was two months ago, and now he and Phichit wander the streets and suburbs of Detroit and everything away from it.

Yuuri shivers at the memory. For six years he's fought to survive, killed corpses, and here he is staying with one in order to live.

_What a strange turn of events._

 

* * *

 

 

You watch Yuuri as he tosses and turns in his makeshift bed-couch. It's almost like he's having a nightmare, except he is not sleeping. He is well awake, but it's as if the very thought of sleeping shakes him to his core.

How curious.

 

* * *

 

 

They sit on opposite sides, leaning against the couches.

"V," Yuuri says, and his voice is hesitant. "When—you came to the pharmacy... my friend, Phichit." He stops, he's not even sure if V will know who he's talking about. But he takes a deep breath and continues anyway. "He's gone, I-I guess. When you... went out, did you..."

V leans forward when Yuuri's voice goes soft.

"Did you... _see_ him?" _As a corpse_ goes unsaid.

V pauses before shaking his head quickly. Yuuri wonders if he's just hiding some truth to protect him, but he puts the thought away. He'll believe him—he has to, to keep himself sane.

"So he could still be alive..." Yuuri mumbles to himself. He brings his knees to his chest and tucks his chin between them. "I see... Thank you." He doesn't know what to think, and his mind feels all muddled. Everything he once thought was right has flipped completely.

His heart is racing.

V makes a grunting noise that catches his attention, and Yuuri looks up to see him putting a hand over his chest—right over his heart. But corpses hearts don't beat. They do not pump blood, or do anything a heart is supposed to. Corpses do not love.

He moves and puts his cold, dead hand right over Yuuri's heart, on his chest, and presses.

Yuuri stares, and shakes his head in disbelief. 

"What... _are_ you?" he asks, once more.

But the corpse does not answer.

Maybe he does not know himself.

 

* * *

 

 

When Yuuri tries to sleep that night, he cannot. He is stricken with nightmares full of death—Phichit dying, him dying, or worse. 

So he stays awake the majority of the night, shaking and trembling underneath his blanket, memories of days gone by flickering through his head like a film reel. The entire apartment is silent, especially with V in a different room, elsewhere. Yuuri is completely alone.

The silence deafens him, freezes him, renders him incapable of... everything.

He's always been terrified of the world; he's just always managed to hide it. It's here, in the dark, dark and alone nights, where it comes to light. It's here, in this dark, dark and alone apartment, where it locks him in.

It's here, where fear controls him.

He's almost tempted to find V, sit with him, but his mind has better plans. He throws off his blanket, his entire body drenched in a nervous sweat. When he does so, the silence is suddenly broken by the sound of distant gunshots. Yuuri's head perks up, and he pauses to listen more. There's shuffling and what sounds like voice.

 _Alive people,_ is the first thing that comes to mind, and Yuuri scurries to the window in hopes of catching a glimpse. Judging from the way V drags himself in the room with a confused noise, he's heard the noises too.

The first thing Yuuri sees are lights—headlights, from some kind of vehicle. It's like a military truck, heavily-fortified and covered in protective shields. Yuuri doesn't think too much of it, and finds himself leaning closer to the window to get a better look. V walks beside him, squatting down to try and get a glimpse of the outside. The vehicle starts to move again, and Yuuri sees people—people who look like soldiers, carrying guns and walking around in heavy armor. Well, maybe it's not _that_ heavy, but it's definitely a lot thicker than the long-sleeved shirt and pants Yuuri's wearing.

When one of the soldiers glances towards the house, Yuuri gasps and pushes V back. It's all just instinct—V looks like a corpse; V _is_ a corpse.

"If they saw you they would've shot you," Yuuri says suddenly, and looks back towards the window. "You'd just be... gone."

He opens the curtains a little more and wipes the window free of wetness so he can see clearer. He wonders about the live people coming through the streets—are they from a camp? A nearby safe zone? Are they raiders, looters? 

Questions race through his mind, but every single one of them are answered when he sees the engraving on the side of the military truck. It's one he's seen far too many times. One that haunts his dreams.

Yuuri stops, and he's frozen. He can't move, his entire body's gone pale, he's broken out in a cold sweat. V seems to notice it, because he grabs Yuuri's hand in confusion and tugs on it to try and get his attention. When Yuuri's mind is brought back to the world, he stumbles and has to steady himself against the window to keep from falling. Unfortunately the _slap_ sound his hand makes against the window alerts the people outside, and they look over. 

Yuuri curses under his breath and ducks down, pulling V down with him and putting a hand over his lips.

"Fucking... shit," Yuuri says, and draws the curtains shut. "This is fucking terrible. This is... the _worst_ possible thing that could happen right now."

V is still staring in confusion.

Yuuri chews on his bottom lip until there's blood, and lifts his head up a little to peek around the room. "They're going to search in here," he says, his voice a whisper just in case. "Is there a back door?"

V pauses, and then nods slowly after a moment's thought. He lifts a shaky hand and points in the direction of the kitchen. When Yuuri looks hard enough, there's a wooden door that looks like it leads outside. Like an emergency exit.

 _This is somewhat of an emergency,_ Yuuri thinks to himself, and takes V's wrist to rush over. He mildly wonders if an alarm will go off when he opens it, but he throws all caution to the wind when he shoves it open with his shoulder and stumbles outside. The cool chill hits him harder than he expected, and when he shivers from head to toe, V's cold skin only heightens it. However, he doesn't let go, and takes a deep breath when he presses himself against the wall.

The tank that drives through the street is louder now, and everywhere Yuuri looks there are soldiers searching, kicking and smashing doors and windows to get in and search. For supplies, for survivors, for new test subjects.

 _Test subjects._ Yuuri's hands tightens on V's wrist.

"We need to get out of here," he mumbles softly, not even sure if his zombie companion heard him. "V—"

"Viktor."

He stops, and turns his head in shock. V is staring at the ground, his hand going limp in Yuuri's grip.

"M-my name," he stammers, and if a zombie could blush, he would probably be doing it. "Vik... tor."

"Viktor," Yuuri tries out, quietly, and it's nice. It's nice to say his name, even if it may be the last time he'll ever see him. "Viktor. We need to get out of here."

"You go." Viktor's voice suddenly goes serious—a frightening change from his shy disposition just moments earlier. "Only... slow you down."

Yuuri looks at him like he's insane. "No way! Do you realize what they'll _do_ to you if they _catch_ you!?"

Viktor stares, because no, he apparently doesn't know.

Yuuri swallows. "They... experiment. On the dead. And if they realize that you're... different..." His voice trails off. He doesn't want to think about it. His parents' faces flash through his mind. 

There's a silence between them. Voices of the soldiers are getting louder.

"Protect me." Viktor's declaration is sudden, and his voice is clearer than Yuuri's ever heard it.

Yuuri blinks. "Alright."

 

* * *

 

 

They're halfway out of the soldiers' sight when a herd of corpses spot them, turning on their heels and groaning loudly as they stalk towards them. Yuuri curses under his breath, because if the soldiers hear the groaning, he's fucked.

Viktor tries to put more gore on Yuuri's face, but he only shoves his bloodied hand away and runs. Viktor runs after him, his legs slow and lethargic from dead muscles straining to come to life.

"Hold it!" comes a gruff voice.

 _Shit._ Yuuri immediately turns to hide behind a convenience store. There's a soldier walking forward, putting bullet after bullet into the corpses' heads. Viktor shivers from beside Yuuri. Yuuri begins to scoot farther away.

"Unit 2," says the soldier when all the corpses are down. "We have a survivor. They're hiding near the convenience store."

"Fuck," Yuuri murmurs, and when the soldier's footsteps begin to retreat, turns the other corner and starts running again. 

He doesn't turn to see if Viktor is behind him. He doesn't turn to see if there are soldiers pursuing him. He really should look, and check, but he just keeps running. It's like his legs can't stop.

When he makes it to the alleyway, he squats down and pauses to catch his breath. There's footsteps behind him, slow, and he whirls around with a gasp to see Viktor standing there, eyes wide in shock. His face is not flushed. He doesn't look tired in the slightest.

He looks... _dead._

Because no matter how hard Yuuri tries to convince himself, tries to see Viktor as anything but, he's a _corpse._ He's dead. Even if he's different, even if he can talk, he's what Yuuri's been fighting against for years. He's what killed his parents. He's what turned the world to ash.

Even if he does have a name now.

"Get down," Yuuri says, his voice shaky. He doesn't know what to do. He's out of weapons, out of time, and out of ideas. He's here, in a city full of soldiers, stuck with a corpse who only just remembered his name.

The tank is moving farther away now. Maybe if he stays put a little while longer, he'll be fine. 

He'll be—

But then the next unit of soldiers starts to walk on the street, holding their guns high and scanning the area for anything useful. A few are familiar, some he doesn't recognize, but none of them stand out as much as the soldier in the back.

His wrists are cut and bloodied and chained together. The sole purpose of his hands are to hold the gun. His face is turned downward, an angry scowl imprinted on his face. His hair is a mess. His body is covered in bruises.

Yuuri's heart stops in this throat when he sees the soldier's face.

"Phichit."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh... this was originally going to be 1 long chapter but as i continued to write i got less and less confident about how the story would be received so i decided to. split it up into 2 chapters. just to test how the reception to the first chapter would go and if i should continue it or not. so i mean... i guess we'll see?
> 
> [tumblr](http://haikuyus.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [yoi sideblog](http://viktcrnikiforov.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whats a consistent update schedule
> 
> anyway uhh yea sorry for the less-than-quality second part. hope yall enjoy anyway
> 
> (this chapter is considerably more graphic than the last. read with caution)

"You really could've handled that a  _whole_  lot better."

"Yeah, well," Yuuri says vaguely, giving a short one-shouldered shrug, "you know I'm full of surprises."

There are soldiers shooting in their direction. Maybe immediately running in Phichit's direction and using his nail file to (unsuccessfully) break him free of his chains had been a bad idea. 

"Like I always say," Yuuri leans back quickly to dodge a random bullet, and blinks in shock at what he's just done, "let's not dwell on the past."

Phichit sighs and points his gun towards the soldiers that are advancing on them. "That's what  _I_  always say!" He rolls his eyes and gasps when a bullet just barely grazes his ear. "Uh, maybe you shouldn't have tried to rescue me when there's a  _fucking tank in front of us?_  "

"I'm making this shit up as I go along," Yuuri says, and finally manages to dig his nail file into the lock of the chains hard enough to break them. Phichit groans a little when he manages to shake them off—his wrists are red and bleeding from being rubbed raw. He grips his gun a little tighter and pauses, taking a deep breath.

He takes the shot, and doesn't miss. Phichit missing a shot is the rarest thing in the world now.

Yuuri grins, despite the morbidity of it. "C'mon!" he exclaims, taking Phichit's wrist automatically and running back towards the alleyway. Immediately upon arriving, a flood of soldiers comes through the other side, reloading their guns and aiming directly at their faces—they have been trained not to miss.

But so have Phichit and Yuuri.

Before the soldiers in the front can fire, Phichit raises his gun and shoots three in a row. He does not flinch.

Yuuri swallows. The apocalypse has made both of them so impervious, so rigid, so concrete that death is a common sight. Murder is a blurry line one crosses every day. He stops his train of thought when a bullet grazes his ear—a warning shot. The soldiers want him alive.

"You'll have to kill me to take me anywhere," Yuuri spits, eyes burning with pure rage. His eyes brim with tears.

Phichit rolls his eyes, mumbling something along the lines of  _Come on, hotshot,_  and drags him the other direction. The number of soldiers are decreasing, and the tank that drives on the road is now focused on a different target.

Corpses drag themselves across the streets. Their groaning is loud, and desperate. The shooting and commotion must have drawn them.

"They should know better," Yuuri says to no one in particular. The soldiers are not fighting with all they have. They shoot, but they only kill if the corpse comes close enough to bite. "They..."

"Subjects," Phichit says, gritting his teeth. "I overheard them when they chained me up. They're doing... something new that kills their subjects super fast. They need as many as they can."

Phichit's explanation is confirmed when one of the men with the heavy guns walks up to a corpse and uses a knife to cut its jaw, effectively removing the risk of a bite. It's arms and legs are wrapped in chains, and tossed into the back of the tank. One after another, corpses that dare to come close meet the same fate. They do not draw back—mindlessly, they pursue, the only thing on their rotten, broken minds being  _food. Flesh. Blood._

Yuuri pauses. "Viktor?" he calls.

"Who?" Phichit asks, but Yuuri does not answer. He waits, and he listens.

There's no reply.

Worry bubbles in Yuuri's chest, and he immediately feels stupid. Viktor is a corpse, just like the ones being thrown into the tank— _except he's not,_  a little voice in Yuuri's mind says,  _he speaks, he dances, he has a name._

"Viktor!?" he calls again, more frantically. The soldiers are too busy gathering up corpses to pay attention to them.

_Gathering up corpses..._

A corpse does not scream. A corpse does not yell. A corpse does not cry.

But in the midst of all the commotion and bloodshed, a broken voice shines through.

"Yuu—ri!"

It's garbled, it's raspy, like it was immensely painful just to yell. But Yuuri hears it, and he whirls around, and he sees the top of Viktor's head in the middle of a crowd of soldiers. They are not moving, not shooting, but Yuuri sees one tremble. They are staring, watching, observing, maybe.

Yuuri's heartbeat picks up. He runs in his direction. Phichit follows.

And as he grows closer, screaming, he realizes that the soldiers are not watching—they are shocked, too surprised to move.

A corpse just spoke. A corpse just  _screamed._

Yuuri curses when he hears the words  _Take it with us._  He runs faster, his legs burning with fatigue. Phichit yells after him, asking  _what the hell is going on, what is he doing, where is he going—_

A soldier turns from the circle and puts a bullet right in his shoulder.

Yuuri's breath catches in his throat, choking him. Phichit yells, and so does Viktor. Blood rushes in his ears, and he's deaf, he's blind, he can't think. Pain shoots through his entire body, and he's on the ground. There's another gunshot, but it doesn't hit him. He doesn't know where it comes from, who took the shot, who took the hit. He feels like he is dying, and he probably  _is,_  and Viktor is going to be taken and experimented on. The miracle of a corpse is going to die.

The miracle is a corpse.

Viktor does not deserve this fate.

Yuuri wonders if he is much of a corpse anymore.

The sounds of gunshots and groaning and screaming is all muffled in comparison to the sound of blood rushing. He can almost feel himself bleeding out. Phichit's face fills his vision, warm droplets of tears fall onto his cold face.

He closes his eyes. He is so tired.

 

* * *

 

 

_He is running, running, through a hallway of white. A flash like a camera blinds him for a moment. When it goes away, there is blood staining the walls and floors. Bodies of people and corpses get in his way. He jumps over one, nearly trips over another._

_There is a door at the end of the hall. He kicks it open._

_Inside is a lab, full of tables and desks and papers and machines. There are two cages in the middle of the room. Inside are his mother and father, snarling against the cage, scratching dirty, broken nails against whatever they can reach. Blood spills from between their sharp teeth, from their rotten gums, from their black, infected lips. Strange marks and mutations litter their bodies. Experiments. Cruel, cruel experiments. In another cage in the back lays a human, their naked body covered in fresh blood._

_He walks up to the two cages, and looks between them. Hesitation is not an option is what he tells himself, because they are coming, they are chasing._

_He lifts his gun and shoots his mother and father in the forehead._

_For good measure, he takes the lighter from his pocket and sets fire to the stack of papers._

_The door slams open._

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri gasps and jerks up, and immediately regrets it.

He hears Phichit scoff, and whips his head around. Phichit is wiping the barrel of his shotgun with his shirt. "You do that every time, dumbass—jerk up, when you know damn well you just got shot."

He pauses, glancing down at his lap. They are in some building, and it smells like death and dust. Yuuri doesn't think they are too far from the street. He feels the continuous sting of pain from his shoulder, and reaches up to touch the makeshift bandages that wrap around it. As soon as his fingertips press against the bloodied area, the memories come flooding back. He gasps, and nearly chokes on his own spit.

"Bullet went straight through," Phichit says, not even looking up. "You took a hell of a hit though."

"Where's—"

"Oh, yeah," Phichit murmurs, and looks up with narrowed eyes. "What the fuck was that?"

"What?"

"You started  _screaming_  when they were taking a corpse," Phichit replies. "Also, it...  _talked?_  Or something? You have a  _lot_  of explaining to do."

Yuuri blinks. "Right. Uh."

This was going to take a while.

 

* * *

 

 

"So... let me get this straight. A  _corpse_... saved your life."

"Yes."

"And took you to some... building where it collected things?"

"Yes."

"And you just  _stayed_  there."

"Well, when you put it like that—"

"It gave you its  _name!_  "

Yuuri bites his lip, unsure of how to respond. He shrugs offhandedly, and sighs. "Phichit, I  _know_  it's stupid and crazy, but," he furrows his eyebrows in warning when Phichit raises his eyebrows and nods as if to say  _No shit,_  "I think... something amazing is happening."

Phichit licks his lips and crosses his arms. "You got shot trying to protect this... this corpse," he says, almost like he's relaying the information to himself. "And it... spoke. It has a name." He frowns, and taps his chin. "That's... more human than I've ever seen a corpse act before."

"He might be curing himself," Yuuri blurts, and his ears flush when Phichit gives him a startled look. "Throughout our... time together, he spoke more and more. He was... gradually improving. Like he was learning."

"'Learning'," Phichit repeats flatly.

"I just—" Yuuri cuts himself off with a groan and runs a hand through his messy hair. "He's the only corpse I've heard talk and..." He pauses. "He... cares about things. Corpses only care about eating."

Phichit purses his lips and works his jaw. Yuuri suddenly feels like crying.

"This is starting to sound like some fucked-up young adult novel," Phichit says a moment later, somehow trying to lighten the mood. When Yuuri scoffs, Phichit clicks the safety of his gun on and sets it the side. Briefly licking the inside of his teeth, Phichit lulls his head to the side and sighs. "So what should we do?"

" _They've_  got him," Yuuri says. "There's no doubt—they heard him scream."

"So... what?"

Yuuri pauses. He's sure Phichit already knows what he's thinking, but neither of them voice it out loud. It's a fucking stupid idea, in all honesty, but they both know it, and they both have done stupider things before.

"We are so going to die," Phichit deadpans.

Yuuri shrugs. "You say that every time we go on a stupid mission."

"Yeah, but a  _corpse-rescue_  mission?" Phichit says, and laughs humorlessly. "I can't leave you for  _one_  day, can I? You get roped into this crazy shit—"

Yuuri shakes his head. "I mean... he's not a bad-looking zombie."

Phichit throws his hands in the air. "That's it, just shoot me right now." He stands abruptly, and shouts something in his native language Yuuri can't understand. "Y'know, you're probably not the first person to fuck a corpse."

"I didn't fuck—"

"Right." Phichit slides both hands behind his head. "So... we're gonna infiltrate the organization that we, mind you, have been  _running away_  from, and save a goddamn corpse."

"I'm not sure he's much of a corpse anymore," Yuuri says, rolling his uninjured shoulder.

"What did you say his name was?"

"Viktor."

"Viktor," Phichit repeats, like he's testing out the name. "Jesus Christ. I suppose I should just stop getting surprised all the time. Hell, I thought the zombie apocalypse was surprising, and now corpses are  _curing_  themselves?"

"Believe me, I was fucking shocked too," Yuuri assures, rolling his eyes as he remembers Viktor smearing blood all over him just to save him—multiple times.

Phichit pauses. "The organization will have a shit-ton of medicine." He nods and points a finger in the air. "Supplies."

"Hormones," Yuuri finishes, because they both are thinking the same thing.

Phichit hesitates before breaking into a grin, like he's trying not to be too hopeful, because maybe they don't even have it—maybe it's all gone, or destroyed. But he looks so excited it's like his heart is about to pound out of his chest. 

He had just gotten his top surgery date when the apocalypse hit. His binder was ripped by a knife months ago.

Yuuri wants him to feel secure in his body more than anything, especially  _now,_  when your mind and everything you once were can be ripped away with a single bite.

"It's worth a shot," Phichit says. "Maybe even a chance to get some fucking revenge." He rubs his hands over his wrists.

Yuuri nods and wobbles as he makes his way to his feet. The makeshift bandages around his left shoulder give way to a makeshift sling, and he wiggles his fingers. "We got enough supplies to even get there?"

"No idea," Phichit answers, running a hand through his hair and bending down to pick up his bag. "Their biggest camp is at the college. Your parents were in the labs." He checks his gun for ammo, and locks it back up. "I'll bet that's where they have your zombie."

"Don't call him 'my zombie'."

Phichit shrugs, suppressing a laugh. "Anyways, we—"

"Hey."

"Oh, what  _now?_  " Phichit groans, but cuts himself short when he sees a small figure standing at the doorway of their little temporary hideout. 

Yuuri moves in front of Phichit, almost shielding him, even though he knows fully well that Phichit is more than capable of handling himself. The figure is shielded in darkness, and they don't flinch when Phichit raises his shotgun in warning.

"Who the hell are you?" Phichit asks, his tone harsher than it needs to be.

The figure makes a strange noise, like they're trying to answer, but the words just do not come to mind. It reminds Yuuri of Viktor, and he straightens in place a little. The figure steps forward, and Phichit turns off the safety.

"Help," is what the figure finally says, voice soft and rough at the same time.

"You need help?" Phichit asks, dropping his gun just barely.

The figure looks like they are shaking their head. They raise their arm and point at the two firmly, and take another few steps. Their feet drag across the floor. 

"Us?" Phichit says at the same time Yuuri says, "We need help?"

The figure nods. "I..." They stop, almost like they're racking their brain for the next word. "I can... help."

"They overheard us," Phichit decides, and makes a motion with his gun. "Here, come—come into the light."

The figure visibly hesitates, but obeys. Yuuri and Phichit both step back in shock when the figure finally becomes visible, and there's a few moments of silence before Phichit nearly slams his gun onto the ground in a dramatic rage.

" _Another_  talking corpse!?" he all but shouts, looking wildly at Yuuri.

Yuuri shrugs with one shoulder, eyes wide in revelation. "Hey, I don't know this one!"

The figure is a corpse—except this one is relatively smaller than Viktor was. Yuuri feels it is vaguely familiar, though he has no idea where he's seen it before. It has shoulder-length blond hair and its black veins are visible across his body. There's a visible bite mark on its shoulder, and Yuuri suddenly feels pitiful.

"Oh, he's so young," Yuuri sighs.

Phichit looks like he's going insane. "A talking corpse wants to help us find another talking corpse," he murmurs to himself, and slaps his hands against his thighs. "Wonderful."

"Do you know who we're looking for?" Yuuri asks, deciding to ignore Phichit's mumbling.

The corpse blinks, slowly absorbing the question. "Yes," he replies, his voice suddenly sounding more confident. "Friend."

"He's your friend?" Yuuri asks.

"Yes," the corpse says again, and Yuuri blinks in obvious surprise.

"Uh..." he stammers, "do you... have a name?"

The corpse shakes his head. "Don't know." This child corpse's speaking is completely different compared to Viktor's—it comes in short bursts, like impulsive blurts. Perhaps it's the age difference. Yuuri admits to himself that with something covering the black veins on the child corpse's neck, he could pass for a normal, living child.

"They really are curing themselves," he whispers to himself, and Phichit whirls around.

"My friend came," the child corpse says, and takes a moment to recollect himself, frowning. "Was... speaking. Moving." He tilts his head to the side, exposing his old bite more clearly. The corpse lifts a shaky hand to his chest, and pats over where his heart is. "Heartbeat."

Phichit frowns. "'Heartbeat'?"

The corpse nods quickly. "It affected us." He leans forward and lets his hand drop. "We... are changing."

"I fuckin' told you," Yuuri stage-whispers, shoving Phichit with his right elbow when the latter rolls his eyes.

"How are you gonna help us?" Phichit asks, "'cause while I appreciate it, I don't know what a talking corpse is really going to do for us."

The blond corpse shrugs. "Don't know."

Phichit blinks. He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. "Uh..."

"My... friend," says the child corpse, eyes cast downwards, "is gone. I want... I want to help."

"Oh, we don't have time for this," Yuuri says sharply, and walks up the corpse. He puts one hand on his shoulder and grips firmly, staring into his milky, dead eyes. "If you're coming with us, you're gonna have to keep up."

The corpse almost grins. "No problem."

 

* * *

 

 

You wake to blinding light.

When your vision clears and you can finally see, you are looking from behind bars. In front of the bars is glass. You reach your hand out and touch it—the dirt from your hand smears. 

It's hard to see through the glass—it looks almost as if it's fogged—but you lean forward and there are figures outside. Walking around, observing you, writing things down. 

"It's awake," comes a voice, and you pause. There's the sound of a folder snapping shut. "Can you hear us?"

You nod. What else can you do?

"It understands human voices," says another, and you can barely hear what they say from the way their voice is so hushed. "This—this is incredible. The rogue was hiding him?"

"Apparently so," replies one. "The rogue took the ex-soldier we captured too."

There's a groan from the other side of the glass. It's as if you're in the center of whatever room you've been placed in. Touching the glass gently, you wonder how hard you would have to hit just to crack it. It seems solid, but it's glass, but it's glass you cannot see through.

_You stop._

_Yuuri looks at you like you're insane. "No way! Do you realize what they'll do to you if they catch you!?"_

_You stare, because, no, you don't know, and you'd like him to enlighten you._

_Yuuri swallows. "They... experiment. On the dead. And if they realize that you're... different..." His voice trails off. You don't press further._

You had been warned. Yuuri—sweet, beautiful Yuuri—had warned you. You're being... experimented on. A part of you that once lived sparks fear inside you. You don't know what they're going to do to you—if they're going to kill you, destroy you, take you apart.

If they are going to keep you from ever seeing Yuuri again.

You put a hand over your heart. For a moment it's as if you can feel your heart skip a beat.

Impossible, of course. You are dead. Living could never love the dead.

 

* * *

 

 

"We're literally on our way to go raid a fucking laboratory to save your undead boyfriend, with the latter's apparent undead best friend beating us in speed," Phichit recounts, tightening his grip on his gun. "I feel like we're in a movie. Or some really badly-written fiction."

Yuuri rolls his eyes.

"This is all your fault, y'know," Phichit says, but his tone lacked true accusation. "You  _had_  to kick that damn metal door open."

Yuuri pauses. "Looking back... that  _may_  have been a bad idea—"

" _Now_  he admits it."

"Yeah, well, it's too late now," Yuuri says, looking forward. The blond corpse is a lot faster than they expected—even though it obviously has no idea where its going.

Phichit doesn't say anything for a while, and then his mouth forms into a sly grin. "You didn't deny that he's your undead boyfriend."

Yuuri resists the urge to grind his teeth. "He's..." He stops, and sighs. "... certainly something."

"You like him."

"He's a corpse."

"Apparently not anymore," Phichit says, raising his eyebrows.

Yuuri pointedly does not look at him. "He's interesting," he finally says. "I don't  _hate_  him. I certainty don't  _love_  him. He's just remembering what it means to be alive." He slows down a little and looks right into Phichit's eyes. "He could be the cure to all of this, and those  _monsters_  have him instead."

Phichit purses his lips. "Fair," he agrees, and looks straight. "But you gotta admit you care about him."

Yuuri sighs and does not say anything more.

Phichit grins and sheaths his gun in his belt so he can stretch his arms above his head "This really  _is_  like some damn movie." He glares up at the sky. "What kinda sick person put us in this situation?"

"Ranting about nothing isn't going to fix it," Yuuri murmurs, almost to himself.

From ahead of them there's a strange guttural noise, almost sounding confused. The corpse has stopped in place, looking off to the side. Yuuri and Phichit catch up with it, and lean forward to try and decipher what it's looking at. Its eyes are unfocused and white, just like a zombie.

Phichit takes a step back. "Uh." He pointedly follows the corpse's gaze to a house not-so far away, near the suburbs. His eyes widen. "Yuuri."

When said person snaps his head over to look, a strangled noise escapes his throat.

Surrounding the house is a group of undead almost as large as a horde. They're pounding at the walls and the windows and the doors, and some are apparently already inside, judging by the way some corpses are being launched out the second-story windows.

"Survivors," Yuuri says. "We have to help."

"How the fuck are we going to help?" Phichit asks incredulously. "We only have two guns each and we still have a lab to invade!"

"Well, we can't just leave them there!" Yuuri knows it's risky, and Phichit is probably right to protest, and yet his pseudo-heroic heart tells him otherwise. "You don't find many survivors that aren't with the organization!"

"How do we know they're  _not?_  "

Yuuri sets his jaw. "They just captured a talking corpse. I'm sure they're all back at the base checking him out now." He seethes with rage.

"Maybe they got trapped getting back."

The blond corpse curiously watches their exchange with a strange look. It doesn't say anything, nor does it try to.

"Can we please try?" Yuuri finally says, exasperatedly.

Phichit bites his lip, and pointedly does not look at Yuuri's face. "Oh, goddamn it.  _Fine_. If I get bitten I'm eating  _you_  first. "

 

* * *

 

 

You do not know how much time has passed since you have been trapped in glass. You wonder if you even know what time is anymore, how to calculate it. Your brain is the only part of you left that lives, and yet it too has been rotted to the core.

You feel like an animal behind glass. That's exactly what you are, you decide. A monster. A monster wearing a dead human body.

Glancing up at the glass, you wonder how hard you must hit just to break through. It's glass, but it's not, but your body is weaker now. In the past, you had been stronger. It had been easy to take your next meal down, pin them to the floor, hold them despite their squirming as you sunk your teeth deep, deep into their flesh.

The bite infects you. You die from blood-loss, the majority of the time. The infection brings you to life, and it mutates. You become stronger, but also weaker. 

You wonder how you know that.

Your body is decayed, a shell of the living, breathing, thinking,  _alive_  person it once was. Your body movements are slow, your reactions are slow. You have only one instinct—to eat—and that is what makes you strong. There are no other emotions, no other feelings, to weigh you down, to prevent you from doing what you were reborn to do. 

Now you think differently. Now, you  _think._  You have feelings you are sure the other undead do not. 

_Are you even dead anymore?_

You punch the glass. It doesn't even crack. There's a muffled laugh from outside.

"It's not going to break," a voice says. "You aren't going to escape."

If you were mindless, you wouldn't care.

But you're not. Your mind is filled with thoughts of Yuuri.

 

* * *

 

When they manage to get close enough to the house, it becomes much clearer who exactly is barricading themselves inside.

"Get the FUCK OFF ME—"

Almost two seconds later, another corpse is launched out the second-story window.

Phichit and Yuuri share a glance. The blond corpse they travel with looks between them questioningly, like it wants to ask something but just can't seem to voice the words.

"You stay here," Yuuri says, as if reading its mind. 

The blond corpse nods and scoots back a little, planting himself behind an abandoned, rusted truck in the middle of the street.

Yuuri takes his knife out and rolls down his sleeves. "Alright. Game plan."

"Around back?"

"Probably surrounded."

Phichit purses his lips. He looks over beside the house, where a garage is sectioned off from the rest of the house. He looks over at Yuuri and points to it.

"There," he says, and lifts himself up. "Climb up onto the roof of the garage and leap to the house."

Yuuri blinks. "You're a genius."

"I know," Phichit laughs, and grins. "You ready?"

"Hell no."

They run anyway.

The corpses surrounding the houses are so busy trying to capture whoever is inside that they don't notice Phichit and Yuuri sneaking around behind them to get to the back of the garage—not at first, anyway. The first leap Phichit makes ends up in him kicking the back wall. It catches the attention of a few stragglers, but they're so slow that Yuuri takes them out one by one with just his knife. Phichit climbs onto the roof with enough ease, and turns back around to grab onto Yuuri. Before Yuuri can grab Phichit's hand, there's a corpse launching itself towards him. 

It knocks him to the ground, and Yuuri curses, low enough not to attract any more corpses than needed. His struggle attracts more undead, and Yuuri finally manages to knock the corpse away right before it takes a big bite out of his neck. When it's rolled over, Yuuri leaps to his feet and stomps on its head with his boot. Not wasting any time, he jumps and grabs onto Phichit's arm. The latter drags him up with all his strength, and the corpses that had been drawn to them are left banging on the garage walls.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and looks over at the gap between them and the house. It's quite a leap—with a sea of undead between. 

"This is probably a bad idea," he says.

"Not the first time we've had one," Phichit counters, and takes a few steps back. "You're the one that wanted to save the unlucky souls inside." He doesn't say anything else before he's running and jumping.

Phichit makes it without tripping or stumbling. When he lands on the roof, it cracks, and he pauses for a moment to make sure it's steady. He looks down at the undead, and then up towards the broken window where corpses had been launched out through before. If he tried hard enough, he could leap up to it and pry it open. Phichit quickly motions for Yuuri to jump, climbing out of the way and steadying himself with the side of the house.

Yuuri bites his lip and forces himself not to glance down. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the blond corpse watching him intensely. It's almost like a supportive gaze, and suddenly Yuuri feels the need to not disappoint. He mimics Phichit, taking steps back and making sure not to step too far. Bouncing in place a few times, he exhales and dashes towards the edge. He's so caught up in his speed he almost forgets to jump, and he pushes off just at the last moment. He feels a corpse's fingers brush against his pant leg, but not strong enough to grip. Yuuri makes it to the other side, but he has to grab onto a roof tile to pull himself up enough. Phichit drags him up by his shirt the rest of the way.

"We made it," Phichit breathes out, smiling.

Yuuri looks up at the broken window. "Not quite."

When they jump inside the house, the hall they land inside is a mess. There's blood and dead corpses littering the floors and walls. Bullet shells are scattered helplessly. Rugs are tossed and pictures that once hung on walls are slipping and cracked.

There's a crashing sound from one of the shut doors. Phichit and Yuuri are dashing in a split second, and Phichit kicks the door open when he discovers it's been locked.

Inside are two women, one of them in a battle for strength with a larger corpse, and the other frantically trying to reload her pistol.

Yuuri lifts his gun and shoots the larger corpse straight through the head. Phichit kicks it down when it threatens to topple over the woman. When it's done, the room is silent for a few long moments.

"Who are you?" asks the woman who had been reloading. Her red hair is all a mess, her clothes coated in blood and her face wet with tears or sweat.

"I'm Phichit," he answers faster than Yuuri can. "This is my friend, Yuuri. We saw you being attacked."

"Oh," breathes the red-haired woman. 

"Guess we're damn lucky," says the woman that had been attacked, holding her shoulder and straightening herself up. Her skin is dark and her eyes are a brilliant shade of violet. Blood is coming from where she's squeezing her shoulder so hard, spilling between her fingers.

The red-haired woman blinks and rushes over to her. "Were you—"

"No," the other woman answers quickly. "Doesn't matter anyway."

Phichit eyes the two for a moment. "You two have names?"

"I'm Mila," the red-haired woman replies.

"I'm Sara," says the other. "Her girlfriend. We've been traveling together ever since the outbreak started."

"That's a long time," Yuuri says without thinking. He immediately regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth.

Sara shrugs with her free shoulder. "Two is better than one."

"True that," Phichit agrees, elbowing Yuuri lightly.

"Thanks for saving us," Mila says, and then furrows her eyebrows. "Kind of humiliating we needed someone else to help us."

Sara rolls her eyes. "We haven't seen other survivors in months. I'll take help wherever it comes."

Mila leans close and runs her hand down Sara's arm. "You're injured. Good thing we're on our way to that lab. They can probably fix you up."

Yuuri perks up. "You're going to the lab too?"

Sara blinks. "Yeah. I heard there's a living camp there."

Phichit and Yuuri both wince simultaneously. They look at each other with pained expressions, and then back at the women.

Mila frowns. "What?"

"Don't tell me it's destroyed," Sara sighs.

"No, it's—" Yuuri starts, and stops himself. "It's corrupted. They're bad people."

"But they're people," Mila says.

Yuuri nods.

"Good enough for me," Sara says casually, and starts to walk towards the window. She looks out, and grimaces at the ocean of undead.

"Wait, you don't understand!" Phichit tries. "They'll turn anyone into soldiers, no matter what! All they want is control!"

"In a world like this, don't we all?" Sara replies. She had a point.

Phichit looks at Yuuri. They're both thinking the same thing. "Experiments," they say at the same time, and flinch in shock.

"Uh, I mean," Phichit continues, "they do experiments on even the slightest anomaly they find. Or even  _anyone._  "

"They killed my parents," Yuuri says, even though it's technically a lie, "and they took away my friend to experiment on him." He grips his gun. "We're on our way to destroy them."

Sara and Mila are quiet for a while.

"Experiments?" Sara says, and she suddenly looks shaky. "Like... what?"

Yuuri looks down. "Torture. Making them be bitten by corpses and seeing their reactions. Sometimes even dissecting them alive."

Sara grips her shoulder tighter. Mila almost looks like she's standing in front of Sara protectively.

"You should help us destroy them," Phichit says. "I don't know why you were going, but—"

"There's no reason to go anymore," Mila interrupts.

Sara grits her teeth. "We were going for  _answers._  "

"Answers?" Yuuri echoes.

Sara hesitates before pulling her shirt up. On the curve of her hip is a bite mark, but it looks old and... faded.

"What—"

"I got this bite a month ago," Sara says, and lets her shirt fall. "Nothing happened." 

"It didn't affect you," Phichit whispers, amazed.

Sara shakes her head. "We've been looking for other survivors since, so we can figure out why."

"All we know is that she's immune, and there's a lab nearby that could help," Mila says.

"But after what you said—" Sara shivers. "Maybe there's no point."

Yuuri and Phichit look at each other. "There's medical supplies and equipment at the college they're held up at," Phichit says, and Yuuri nods. "We can take it over, and we can figure out just what makes you so special."

Sara almost smiles. "Then count us in." Mila grins and nods from behind her.

"Wonderful," Yuuri says, and looks at the window. "Now we just need to figure out, uh... how we're getting out."

Mila and Sara look at each other, and the former crosses her arms.

"I have an idea," she says.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"This is the worst and best thing we've ever done."

"How so?" Phichit asks.

"The plan? Wonderful. Couldn't have thought of it myself," Yuuri replies. "The steps needed to complete the plan? Horrible. I wanna die."

"Oh, please," Sara says. "We're fine."

"Wasn't expecting the half-alive corpse to tag along, though," Mila admits. The blond corpse tries to shrink himself beside her.

All four of them are coated in guts and blood from the dead corpses in the house. The blond corpse, of course, didn't need any, being dead himself. As an added bonus (it was still up in the air whether the bonus was good or not), the undead that had surrounded the house had followed them when the scent of human flesh disappeared, believing them to be new members of the horde. Instead of narrowly escaping with themselves, the new plan was to invade the lab  _as_  the horde.

 _They'll be so busy with the horde they'll barely notice us sneaking in,_  Sara had said. Yuuri somewhat doubted it to be entirely true, but he didn't question her.

They all walk in the front, slow but quicker than the actual undead. In case their cover was blown, they wanted enough distance to start running. They just hoped they were convincing enough to pass as corpses.

"Hey, you spent your time with one," Phichit teases. "Surely you've picked up a few tricks."

"I hate you," Yuuri deadpans.

"Huh?" Mila questions quietly, her voice down to keep attention away from them.

Phichit smirks, eyeing Yuuri out of the corner of his eye. "We were searching a pharmacy for medicine and hormones. We got separated and a corpse took Yuuri back to his little hideout. They  _bonded_  and fell in  _love._  "

"We did not!" Yuuri whisper-yells.

"Hormones?" is the part of the story Sara decides to question. "You're trans?"

"Yeah," Phichit replies, taking a deep breath. His chest feels too loose.

Sara glances at the ground, and then looks right into his eyes. "Me too," she says, her smile shaky. "Kind of hard in the middle of an apocalypse."

"No kidding."

Yuuri waits for the moment to pass. "We should keep quiet and keep moving. We have a ways ahead of us."

The three nod in agreement, silent. The blond corpse doesn't say anything either, but he makes a little affirmative grunt.

The sun is setting.

 

* * *

 

 

You've been freed of the glass, but you're chained to the wall by your neck, arms, and legs. There's men in bodysuits holding sticks with electricity coming off the ends surrounding you, pointing the sparkling ends in your direction. If you tried to break free, you'd be shocked. 

In front of you, a few feet away, is a severed human arm on a literal silver platter. It's fresh—you can smell it.

If you were the you from months ago, you'd be growling and snarling and squirming just to get a taste. But you're  _not_  the you from then, and if anything, you are pressing yourself into the wall. You're  _disgusted._  It smells like human flesh, and your throat is tightening up.

"It isn't interested," says one of the men in bodysuits. _It. It._  You have a name. 

"Huh," muses a voice from somewhere you can't see. When you try to turn your head, you're shocked. It hurts, and you bite your tongue. "I wonder if this thing is even dead anymore."

"Its heart doesn't beat," says one of the scientists. "But it does not crave flesh. It has visible black veins, which means it does not bleed, but it thinks." The scientist pauses. "It's like the subject is in the halfway point."

"A point between life and death, huh..." says the voice again. "How interesting."

You don't think it's  _that_  intriguing. You just want to leave.

"Ma'am!" a soldier rushes in, sweat forming at his hairline. The men in bodysuits and the scientists all turn to him, even though you aren't sure who he's directing his voice to. "There's a huge horde of undead coming directly towards us. Should we open fire?"

There's footsteps and a pale woman in a black trench coat walks by. She's the owner of the musing voice from earlier.

"Send out the tanks. Try to burn them all out before wasting the bullets we have left," she orders, her hands tucked firmly behind her back. She quickly glances at you, and her sharp gaze makes you flinch. Your chains rattle with your movements. "Put the subject back in the cage," she says to the men around you. "Make sure it's secure. We don't want any..." Her voice trails off for a moment, and she leans towards you with a lecherous grin. "... escape attempts."

You resist the urge to bare your teeth at her. 

When you're free of the chains and thrown back into the glass cage, you're blind to the world again. You wonder if this is how you felt months ago, before you met Yuuri.

Before you learned humanity.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun is starting to rise again when they make it to the outskirts of the college campus. The organization has already noticed them arriving, bringing out their troops in full with flamethrowers at the ready.

"Holy shit," Mila says.

"They're going to open fire," Phichit informs quickly. "We have to separate ourselves from the rest."

Yuuri glances around and points to a small dormitory near the main building. "Let's head over there. We can plan our way once we're inside."

The five all move without a second thought, shoving away any stragglers that try to follow them. The soldiers don't notice them, much more focused on the bigger group. They dart behind bushes and trees, and eventually climb through the window of the dormitory when the door proves to be locked.

After making sure the dormitory is empty, Phichit sighs and slides down the wall and sits. "I'm so tired."

"Me too," Yuuri admits, steadying himself against the wall. "But we need to figure out what we're doing."

"You need to find your undead boyfriend," Phichit points out. "He's in the science wing, probably."

Yuuri gives up correcting him anymore. "That's on the other side of the main building," he says. "I'd have to cross the different wings just to make it through unseen."

Phichit nods, and looks over at Mila and Sara. "You two wanna help me take down this dumb organization?" he asks.

The two women look at each other and then back at him, grinning. "Of course," Mila says.

"I wanna find that medical equipment too," Sara continues.

Phichit nods. "So you're going alone?" His question is directed at Yuuri now.

Yuuri blinks, and points towards the blond corpse. "I was planning on taking him with me." The three are staring at him with wide eyes. "I mean, he knows Viktor after all." Then he pauses and looks over at the undead child. "Do you have, uh, a name or something? I don't... have anything to call you."

The blond corpse looks downwards, his hair shielding his eyes. He shifts in place for a moment. "Yuri."

Yuuri freezes. "Wh—like...  _my_  name?"

 _Yuri_  nods, almost looking embarrassed. 

Phichit sighs and jumps to his feet, stretching his arms above his head. "I think you have a fan, Yuuri." He looks over at the self-proclaimed fan and purses his lips. "I'm gonna call you 'Yurio'. Easier to distinguish."

Yurio has no place to argue, so he only nods in silent agreement.

Yuuri goes over to Phichit and wraps his arms around him. "Never thought we'd be back here, but... good luck." When he pulls away, he nods towards Mila and Sara with a smile. "Good luck to you guys too."

Mila salutes playfully. "We'll be fine. We're the strongest survivors in the world!"

"I don't doubt that," Yuuri agrees.

When the firing outside quiets down enough, they slip out of the dormitory in different directions, and they split up.

 

* * *

 

 

Eventually the horde of corpses make it past the soldiers, and they invade the lab. There's such a large number of them that they quickly overpower the living, and as Yuuri runs through the different wings, he sees soldiers and other civilians alike sprawled on the ground, bleeding out from their specific wounds, or with corpses over them, biting and chewing into their skin. Yuuri pauses when he sees the body of a woman being devoured by two undead. She isn't a soldier. She isn't—

"Oh God," he whispers, covering his mouth with his hand. They just sent the civilians living in the organization a death sentence.

Yurio stares at Yuuri, his eyebrows furrowed. 

Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head quickly. "No, let's—" He shudders and grabs Yurio's arm. "Let's just go."

 

* * *

 

 

You can hear screams and explosions and gunshots in the distance, and you can hear them growing closer. There's distinct growls and snarling, noises you recognize. You're still trapped in the glass, with no means to getting out by yourself. You've already tried bashing your head against it, banging your fists in hopes of getting it to  _at least_  crack. Nothing works, and you're trapped—

There's a loud scream coming from the door. Through the blurriness of the glass you can see one of the soldiers frantically knifing at a corpse. When he tries to shoot his gun nothing comes out, and when the corpse knocks him to the ground there's nothing to stop it from sinking its teeth into his face and _ripping—_

You turn your head away. The soldier's screams eventually cease. 

When the corpse stands, it stumbles and crashes against the counter. Whatever it lands on, it opens the glass case, and you're free. The corpse looks over at the source of the noise, and stares at you for a long moment. You tense up, because maybe you're not dead enough anymore. All your suspicions are laid to rest when the corpse leans back down and struggles to rip the soldier's heavy armor off with its thin, weak arms.

You blink. You're almost disappointed. You're still dead, you're still a corpse, you're still undead.  _You were a fool to think you could be anything different._

You stumble through the door into the hallway. The building looks like a normal college campus, except boarded up and reinforced to look almost terrifying. You wish you could remember the world before it fell; you wish you could remember your life before  _you_  fell.

The hall is empty, but it echoes with noise. You wonder if you should even leave—you'll either be mistaken for part of the undead horde and be killed, or you'll be captured again. You decide to go out anyway, leaving the corpse inside to its meal. 

In the halls are windows that reveal a courtyard in the center of the building. Filling the courtyard are soldiers and corpses—the corpses lined up and the soldiers shooting them with all the bullets they have. You see them panic. You're not sure how large the horde is exactly, but if soldiers are dying left and right and bullets are being used up incredibly fast, it must be _large._

You feel almost... nervous.

Walking down the hall feels like you're walking to your certain doom, but you have to try anyway. You think of Yuuri, the one person who has ever made you feel alive. You think of freedom. 

When you make it out of the hall into the next one, there's corpses standing still all around. They're swaying slightly, staring off into space, brains too dead to think. When you take a step, the floor creaks, and all the corpses snap their heads to look at you. _You're dead, you're dead, you're dead._  They only stare, almost like they're confused, or curious. You walk past them, legs still too tired and rotten to work properly. You stagger like you're chasing human flesh. You drag yourself across like it's the end of the world.

The corpses are following you, is what you realize when you reach a set of stairs. When you turn, they stare right back at you. When you go down the stairs, they follow. Almost like you've become a leader.

You pause. You're definitely a lot smarter and aware of things than they are. Perhaps you've just become someone to naturally look up to.

The more you walk, the farther you get. The farther you get, the more undead you come across. When the undead see you walk by, they abandon the living they had been attacking or feasting on in favor of following you. It makes you feel powerful, and when the still-living watch your group walk by, they don't fire. They don't attack. Like they're frozen in fear.

You eventually make it out of the building. There are tanks and blood everywhere. Out of the corner of your eye you see figures running quickly, ducking down, like they're trying to hide. You don't pay any attention to them.

You wonder if you can make it back to the city, if you can find Yuuri again.

 

* * *

 

 

"These guys really don't fuck around with their weapons," Sara whispers, brushing her hair out of her face as she ducks behind a desk. A soldier is patrolling a room, but she's coated in sweat, and her eyes are darting around shakily. In her arms is a large gun, meant to look intimidating, but Phichit knows it's most likely low on ammo.

"They're stolen," Phichit says back, his voice barely audible. "They raid any camps they find and rob from survivors they stumble upon." He looks over at the two women; they're both giving him strange looks.

"How do you know?" Sara asks.

"Did they steal from you?" Mila continues.

Phichit shakes his head. "Yuuri and I... used to be part of them." Before Mila and Sara can question, he goes farther, "They're ruthless. They want to control everything and if anyone gets in their way, they're destroyed." He bites his lip. "It's either join them or die."

"But you left."

"I left with Yuuri," he says. "The scientists here experimented on his parents."

"Oh God," Mila muffles her gasp with her hand.

"Yeah." When the soldier finally hears their conversation, Phichit jumps above the desk they're behind and shoots her in the chest. She falls. He squats back down. "We've been on our own, avoiding them wherever we can. But now..."

"They took someone from you," Sara says. "That's what Yuuri said. A... living corpse?"

Phichit makes an  _eh_  noise and cocks his head. "It's... kind of a long story." After hearing the gunshot, soldiers come running down the halls. Phichit glances up, and looks back at the two women, "One that we don't have time for—let's go."

They both make their way out of the room through the window, which leads into what looks like a large classroom. Instead of questioning why a classroom had windows to see through to another room, they duck underneath them to avoid being seen by the soldiers. Peeking over, Phichit sees one of them kneel down to check the one he had shot. He puts a hand over her neck as if to feel her pulse, and then stands.

"She's been shot."

Phichit sighs.  _Obviously._

"There's someone inside," says another soldier. Phichit resists the urge to groan at the obliviousness of the self-proclaimed _best soldiers in the country._

"The horde is just a distraction, then!" one realizes, and Phichit can't let them alert anyone else, so he stands and fires a bullet at the one who just spoke. He falls immediately, and the other whirl around in alert. 

Sara and Mila both stand, and Mila throws a knife at one of the soldier's chests. They raise their guns and cock them, but before they can even fire Sara is already jumping back through into the room and sliding across the floor to slash at their ankles. When two of them stumble to the ground, Sara jams her elbow in one of their heads and kicks them off to the side. She jumps on the other one and does the same. When she looks up, there's a gun aimed at her face.

Phichit shoots the one aiming at her before they can even think about pulling the trigger.

Mila jumps over and takes care of the rest with her pocket knives. When they're all fallen, she walks over and pulls out the bloodied blades from each one.

"I'm glad you guys agreed to join us," Phichit scoffs. "Like... we barely even know you." He pauses. "You're not planning to turn on us, right?"

Mila and Sara glare at him in return.

"You saved us," Mila says, wiping the blood from her knives off on her pants. "Now we're helping you."

"Plus," Sara says, "we were going to come here anyway. But if what everything you said is true, then I don't want this organization to be around at all."

Phichit glances between them. "They also think gays should turn straight for the sake of re-population, even to the point of _force._ "

The two women freeze in place.

"Okay, we're  _definitely_  taking this bitch down."

Phichit grins.

When they start walking down the hall where the soldiers ran from, Mila pauses to glance out the window. There are a few corpses up ahead, but they still smell enough like the dead to keep from being totally exposed. 

"What the hell is  _that?_  "

Sara and Phichit both stop in place, and walk over beside Mila to see what she's questioning. It does not take them long to find it—walking towards the courtyard is more than half the horde, stumbling behind one corpse that is walking slightly faster than the rest of them. Its strange-looking, it almost doesn't even look dead, but—

"Holy shit," Phichit whispers. "Yuuri's gonna  _flip._  "

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri is taking down soldiers and the like when Yurio sees it. He's far too busy trying to find the science wing that he doesn't even notice Yurio tugging on his sleeve at first. When he feels the movement, his first instinct is to whirl around and punch them—but he can't, because Yurio ducks down and dodges it.

"Oh shit," Yuuri says and puts his hands in the air. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut, guilt flooding through him. "I'm sorry, I didn't even realize it was you." His entire body is tense and laced with adrenaline. 

Yurio just doesn't say anything, and he tugs on Yuuri's sleeve more. He's pointing towards the broken window, and urgently trying to drag him towards it.

"What is it?" Yuuri asks, even though he's sure Yurio won't reply. He walks over towards the window in question, careful of the broken glass scattered around. Looking down to watch his step, he pokes his head out glances around. " I don't—" Yurio reaches up and pushes the back of his head so he's looking down, and that's when he sees it.

On one side of the giant courtyard is a group of soldiers, all armed and ready. There are two dressed in black standing in front of the rows of soldiers. 

On the other side is Viktor, with a crowd of undead snarling behind him.

"Oh my God."

And he runs.

 

* * *

 

 

When he and Yurio make it out to the courtyard, the two standing in front of all the soldiers immediately turn their attention to them.

"You," hisses one, and she whirls around with angry eyes.

Yuuri grits his teeth. When he glances over towards the army of undead, Viktor is staring at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He looks somehow... more alive than he did before.

"Yuuri—" he starts, but Yuuri shakes his head once. Viktor seals his lips and looks back towards the soldiers.

"Is  _that_  what you came here for?" the woman in front sneers, jerking her head in Viktor's direction. "The half-corpse?"

"He's changing," Yuuri spits. "I'm not going to let you just kill him."

"Why would I want to kill the only hope for humanity?"

Yuuri pauses. He thinks of Sara, but doesn't say anything. "Because you want to be in control." He starts slowly scooting towards Viktor. The corpses snarl at him as he draws closer, but they don't move. "If the world were to come back, where would you stand?"

"Oh, come on, Katsuki," she says, and Yuuri suddenly remembers why the organization had chosen her as their leader, "you  _know_  me better than that. You were my right-hand!" She grins. "Just imagine. If I were the one to bring about the cure to end the apocalypse, I'd be worshiped. I'd be  _unstoppable._  "

"You've lost your humanity," Yuuri shouts.

"No!" the leader yells back, and gestures violently towards the undead. Her eyes gleam with insanity. " _They_  have."

"Viktor is more human than you'll ever be," Yuuri says when he finally gets to his side, and despite all the soldiers having their guns pointed towards him, and despite the leader and her followers staring him down, he reaches out and grabs Viktor's hand.

It's warm.

The leader scoffs. "Shoot them all."

"Not on my watch," suddenly comes Phichit's voice, and he's shooting a bullet into the leader's shoulder. She cries out and stumbles right into another soldier's arms, and the rest are shocked and confused at what to do.

Phichit sheaths his empty gun and pulls out two knives, twirling them in his fingers. "These are really nice," he says, looking back at Mila with an impressed look.

Mila winks, and holds up one of her own. "I sharpen them myself."

"So you've all come to take us down," the leader says, pressing her hand to her chest. Phichit clicks his tongue when he notices he missed where he wanted to shoot. The leader looks over at Mila and Sara. "I don't believe we've met."

"Yeah, hi," Sara says. "I'm humanity's hope."

"I'm humanity's hope's girlfriend," Mila says cheekily.

The leader's grin falls, and she narrows her eyes at Sara.

"Doesn't matter anyway," Phichit says, shrugging. "This is our town now."

"I have my soldiers—"

"We have a horde of undead," Phichit counters, and glances over at Viktor, "that our very kind half-dead, half-alive friend is holding back from killing you all."

The soldiers that stand behind their leader look uncertain and shaky. They shift from side to side, and for a moment they don't even look like the terrifying soldiers their leader had trained and forced them to become. They looked like people—trapped in a shitty situation. Most of them probably were.

Phichit, Mila, and Sara walk over towards Yuuri. None of the soldiers try to stop them.

Yuuri tightens his grip on Viktor's hand. The army of undead behind them are silent.

"Are you going to follow that shitty excuse for a leader," he starts, "or fight for what's  _actually_  right?"

"Oh, by the way," Sara says as she lifts up her shirt to show off her healing bite mark. "I'm immune."

 _That_  is what gets the soldiers murmuring to themselves, as if deciding whether to overcome their fears or stay put. The leader looks frantic, whirling around and angrily pressing her bloodied hand against her gunshot wound. She looks off, stumbling as she takes a step forward. 

"Oh, enough of this," she growls, snatching a gun from one of the nearby soldiers and firing in Viktor's direction.

Yuuri feels Viktor's hand slip from his as he falls backwards from the impact. He lands on his back with a thud, and the corpses shuffle backwards to allow room for them. They stare down, eyes wide, like they're reacting. 

Yuuri angrily jumps up and grabs a knife from Phichit's hand, throwing it as hard as he can. It lands right in the leader's stomach, and she chokes before falling backwards herself. Yuuri whirls back around to where Viktor is on the ground. He kneels down beside him, as do Phichit, Yurio, Mila, and Sara. 

Viktor's eyes are half-lidded, but through them Yuuri can see a bright blue. The black veins that usually appear on a corpse are gone, and most noticeably—

"He's bleeding," Phichit whispers.

Yuuri's breath catches in his throat, and he moves to touch Viktor's chest, where the wound sits firmly. Viktor is shaking, a tear falling from his eye when Yuuri presses, but then Yuuri pulls his hand away and it is, in fact, covered in blood.

_Corpses don't bleed. Corpses don't bleed._

"He's alive," Yuuri chokes out. He's crying, his tears falling everywhere. "He's—"

"Get him inside," Mila says quickly. "He'll bleed out."

Yuuri's mind is barely clear, but he registers her words and nods. Phichit helps him take Viktor inside, and the army of corpses move accordingly. Mila and Sara watch them go, and then look at the army. None of them are moving to attack, neither them nor the soldiers. Most of them look brighter, more  _alive._

"This is way more than we signed up for," Sara says, and looks over at the soldiers. A few of them are kneeling beside their fallen leader, but none of them look upset at her death.

"At least we kind of got a huge campus to ourselves?" Mila says uncertainly.

 

* * *

 

 

From seeing a human and a corpse hold hands with no qualms whatsoever, it awoke something in the army of corpses the half-dead one had led. It awoke something more in the ones who had been more alive than others.

Their hearts began to beat, and suddenly the smell of fresh human meat didn't seem so mouthwatering anymore.

Then they saw the half-dead corpse bleed, and suddenly he wasn't so dead anymore.

And suddenly none of them were either.

 

* * *

 

 

"I can't believe you single-handedly brought a corpse back to life," Phichit says, leaning against the doorway. 

Yuuri rolls his eyes. "Whatever. It wasn't  _just_  me."

"It kind of was."

Yuuri waves him off and turns around to face Phichit and props his arms up on the back of the chair he's sitting on. "So how is... well, everything?"

Phichit exhales slowly, raising his eyebrows. "Um... well..." He crosses his arms. "The undead are sort of...  _not-so_  dead anymore. All the soldiers working for that bitchy leader are kind of on  _our_  side now," he recounts, looking up at the ceiling, "and right now the girls are running tests on Sara to see if they can find a faster cure than the power of _love._  " He finishes the sentence with a teasing tone.

"'Power of love'," Yuuri scoffs. "I don't even know what it was. Viktor was... different."

"Whatever happened," Phichit says, turning on his heel and walking back down the hallway, "it's bringing the others back."

Yuuri watches him go, and then turns back to look at Viktor. Said man is laying on a makeshift bed (which is actually just a table with a sheet over it), his chest wrapped up as best as they could in their haste.  _This entire situation feels like a movie,_  he thinks to himself, pulling a deadpanned expression. He wonders if he really had been the one to bring Viktor back to life, and the thought makes his cheeks heat up. Now that he's watching Viktor, taking in how he looks, he's actually really beautiful.

He's about think,  _for a corpse,_  but Viktor isn't that anymore.

Yuuri groans and buries his reddening face in his hands. He totally had a crush on a corpse.

 

* * *

 

 

With Yurio's newly-awakened state, the bite mark on his neck starts to heal. He's startled to find that he's coming alive too.

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor wakes up a few hours later, blinking slowly at the ceiling and groaning at the light that meets his eyes.

"Oh, you're awake," Yuuri says, trying not to sound too eager. "Are you alright? You—"

"I was bleeding," Viktor says, and he jolts back like he's startled by how easy his voice comes out. He puts a hand up to his lips and blinks owlishly. "I'm... what? What happened?"

"You're  _alive,_  " Yuuri breathes, smiling brightly. "You're... it's incredible!"

Viktor looks down at himself, and at his arms. His veins are blue, not black. His skin isn't deathly white. He feels  _warm,_  he feels happy—he feels things.

"Am I really alive?" he asks, like he can't believe it. 

Yuuri nods.

They both stare at each other, seemingly too close for comfort, with the way Yuuri is sitting on the edge of the table, leaning in close. Viktor blinks once, twice, and then turns his gaze away like he's embarrassed. His cheeks grow red. 

"Um—"

"Oh, geez," Phichit says from the doorway. "I walk in on the worst times, don't I?"

"Nothing's happening," Yuuri scoffs, but the back of his neck feels warm.

" _What?_  " Phichit questions, his eyes wide. "Nothing? You two brought the undead back to life through the power of gay love and you're  _not_  making out?" When neither of them say anything, Phichit sighs. "Whatever. I was just checking on you to see if you were awake." He then leaves, and Viktor and Yuuri are left with the impact of his words.

"'Power of gay love'?" Viktor asks, and Yuuri's flush grows from his neck up to his ears.

"Um... well..." Yuuri doesn't know what to say. He's flushed with embarrassment, his palms sweating. "Phichit has this idea that you came to life... because of  _me._  "

Viktor stares. "I did," he says with no hesitation.

Yuuri's jaw drops. "What."

Viktor lowers his head but his gaze doesn't break. "Well, when I met you, I was so drawn to you," he confesses. "I... thought you were the most beautiful person in the world." If he notices Yuuri choking on his own spit, he doesn't say anything. "I wanted to  _protect_  you, but... that kind of failed. Then I saw you came to save me and I..." He pauses. "Unless you didn't come to save me, a-and it was just a... um, what's the word..."

"Coincidence?"

"Yeah!"

Yuuri bites his lip. "I, uh, did come to save you, actually..." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "Your little, erm, blond friend helped us out too."

Viktor's face brightens. "Oh, yes! Is he alright?"

"He's actually... coming to life now too. Everyone is," Yuuri replies.

Viktor's smile falls a little, and he almost looks a little shy. "Was it really the power of love?"

Yuuri doesn't say anything for a long moment. He licks his lips and leans in to kiss him.

 

* * *

 

 

Samples of Sara's blood becomes a usable serum for a cure. Using the working radios they have, they spread the word that both a short-term and long-term cure has been found. Corpses all over the world cure themselves. People infected live another day.

 

* * *

 

 

The college campus becomes a base for the new organization. Soldiers are allowed to become civilians again. They are allowed to have families again. Everyone is allowed to live again.

"I hope they write a book about this," Yuuri says, looking out at the setting sun. You and him sit on the roof, feet dangling off the edge. Mila and Sara are off elsewhere, probably making out or something else of the frisky variety.

"About what?" you ask.

"About me basically saving the human race," he replies cheekily. "I made the undead fall in love with me."

You find yourself blushing. You seem to do that a lot now. "I—well—"

Yuuri only laughs, and reaching for your hand. Lacing your fingers together, he leans in and kisses your cheek. "It's okay," he assures teasingly. "I thought you were cute while you were dead, too."

"That sounds kind of creepy."

"Oh well."

The sun sets and the sky blooms with starlight. Being living again is a strange feeling. You were so used to eating people for a long time, and now you're discovered (or, rediscovering) new foods every day. You have a beating heart, that seems to speed up whenever you see or think about Yuuri. Your skin is warm, and not cold to the touch, so Yuuri doesn't pull away when you touch him. Apparently being alive means kissing, which you find yourself enjoying, very much. 

You remember seeing Yuuri for the first time, and being so taken aback by the light that came from him. You remember protecting him with everything you had, and you didn't have much other than an empty body and broken mind. 

You still do not remember your life before coming undead. But that's okay. You don't need your old life.

Your entire life is sitting beside you, leaning against you, and he's holding your hand. 

You have a heartbeat now, and your heart beats for Yuuri.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so there's that
> 
> [tumblr](http://haikuyus.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [yoi sideblog](http://viktcrnikiforov.tumblr.com/)


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